Black and White
by Wierdowithagun
Summary: Two different people from two different worlds with two different personalities and morality standards start a pen-pal relationship in which they realize that they are the same person. Logic declares that one must be real and one must be fake, but then again, where does logic fit into an equation like this? -Zetsucentric, dark, twisted, convoluted plot with all kinds of triggers.
1. Chapter 1 - Black

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Author's Note-

For my best friend who indulges my dark and psychotic tendancies with love and understanding.

-o-

Black and White

Chapter 1 - Black

_"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." -Edgar Allen Poe_

.

..

...

Home.

Well... maybe not _home_ exactly. 'The place I live' would be better suited for what he felt toward it. The actual word 'home' had never been more than just another term for this; 'The place I live'. Home is somewhere you belonged, somewhere you were always happy to return to. Not some emotionally barren stack of various construction materials overrun with all manner of deformities that infest a house far past it's prime.

Not to complain, really. It was just a fact. If you asked him where else he might call home he'd give you just as cynical an answer, or none at all. As far as affection goes, whether places, things, or people... one could say he'd run short awhile ago and never bothered to develop any more.

He sighed very deeply, his breath fogging out in a momentary plume against the chilly early-morning air, and continued stareing at the tiny dwelling before him. After a few moments, an impatient beep signaled behind him, and he whirled to see the cab-driver scowling at him, leaned over across the seat so as to make sure the man noticed him.

With a roll of his eyes, he dug into his pockets, ripping out his last crumpled ten dollar bill and tossing it flippantly into the open window.

"Trash." He spat lowly before snatching up his suitcase and striding finally toward the front door of 'The place I live'. The asshole didn't deserve any damn money for that shoddy ride. Hadn't even _tried_ to be a good host, even if it was an un-godly hour and the trip had only been a whopping 12 blocks from the bus-stop...

The cab let out a loud whirr and finally veered slowly away. He took the extra second to twist and give the driver a half-glare, and resumed treading the last few feet of his excruciatingly long journey.

_Home._ Well... maybe this garbage bin had earned that title. He couldn't deny that he was happy to be standing just outside the building. Anything was better than that gigantic block of tile and cement he'd been trapped in previously for a month, though honestly the time had stretched on to the point where memories from the outside world seemed more like some dream he'd had long ago... Really, for the kind of variable that place catered too, they had not spared one single thought or penny to making it seem even the least bit comfortable.

With a click of his tongue, he shifted his battered suitcase to his other hand and pulled open the door, greeted immediatly by the dank smell of an uninhabited residence that this hunk of shit smelled of even when it _hadn't_ been empty for an entire 30 days. He only scrunched up his nose and continued inside. The smell of sheer emptyness was more than welcome when opposed to heavy cleaning agents and mental debilitation.

"Home..." He muttered to himself, looking around at the stained paint of the walls and his cheap and well-worn furniture. The thoroughly scuffed up wooden floors, chipping off hunks of leftover glue or linoleum in places where past owners had made a vain attempt to upgrade it. The ceilings, with rippling circles of brown spread like raindrops in a puddle over it's 'popcorn' surface, bowing downward in some places juuust barely enough to be noticeable, yet not enough to bring forth any sort of anxiety in him. If it ever should decide to collapse he simply hoped he might be underneath it. Not a death wish really, just a morbid and dark part of his personality. As was the fact that he had chosen this house to be his 'The place I live' despite the fact that most normal people would deem it as uninhabitable. He often found it eerily comforting. Wonderfully silent despite the increasing rate of decomposure going on around him, of the mice and the spiders and various other creepy crawlies that likley called 'The place I live' their home. So much time to just sit and think, be at peace. There were no worries in his world, worry was a disease he didn't feel the pull to bother with as most humans seemed to do. If the house collapsed, it collapsed. He didn't now, nor would he ever, have the money or desire to repair it. And the poor goaning, whining thing, it was likley it wished for death anyway. If walls could talk, the screams of this building would likley keep the neighbors up through the night.

Despite himself he felt a grin stretch across his face.

Yes. He supposed the dingy hole had upgraded itself at least that much in his own opinion.

...

"Sasori..." He said into the small piece of technologically advanced plastic he had against the side of his face. The phone had rang near 7 times, not half a second away from going straight to voicemail when finally a loud shuffling and scratching had clacked it's way onto the speaker, followed by the sleepy croak of a greeting that honestly couldn't even be called an actual word.

"I'd like a word with Mary." He continued, half a smirk pulling his lips back just far enough to let peek a few teeth, yellowed from the lack of care given to them.

There was a groan on the other end of the line, a moment of silence, then a growl. "It's 4 in the fucking morning!? Who is this and how would you like to be killed?" More crackling, a few swears, obnoxious coughing, and then more ranting. "I swear you people have a damned bug on me. Every time I _finally_ manage to fall asleep, _every time!_"

"I thought you could make an exception for an old friend. You do still remember me don't you? Or have you been over-doing it with my girl again?"

Another moment of silence passed. He could practically imagine his red-headed friend squinting into the fabric of his pillow, trying to match a name to the voice he was hearing.

"...Zettie? Kuro Zettie?"

"Who else would be desperate enough to risk waking you up?"

"Shit." Sasori replied in a very unimpressed tone. "So you're back. Good deal, I was getting bloody tired of hanging out with this lot of idiots without you."

"It's good to know my absence was noted by _someone_."

"Oh they all noticed when I finally stopped answering their constant streams of calls and you seemed to have inexplicabley vanished and taken your cashe along with." Sasori grumbled, more animated now, but only slightly so. The man's emotions were more of a thing to be sensed by those around him enough than anything to be witnessed. Simply speaking, the man was more of a puppet with a painted face than anything alive.

'Zettie' let out a breath of a laugh and combed a hand through his shaggy hair, now faded a disgusting puce color instead of the glossy forest green it had been before his unfortunate admittance to that tower of insanity. Most people died their hair to stand out, to make some sort of statement, or perhaps simply because they liked the style. Zetsu did it because his natural brown mop was the color of shit and he detested seeing what looked as if someone had just dropped a damn deuce on his skull every time he looked in the mirror. Why green? Well, it was the color commonly associated with unsavory things like mold and rot, when not being swooned over by nature lovers... What better way to make his appearance reflect his personality than to have himself be diseased-looking?

The very roots were a rich chocolatey brown, however, and if the color had stayed, he thought maybe he would have rather liked the effect. As it was now though it just looked like he'd broken off the end of a mouldy broom and stuck it on his head. Not that it bothered him much, the effect was more desireable than the original dye-job had been.

"And whats this '_my girl'_ rubbish? I'll have you know, Zettie, that it was I who introduced you two."

"But you know she likes me more."

"Hardly. Making yourself out to look like some diseased twig doesn't bring you any closer to her class." The was another pause, some deep sighing, what distinctly sounded like a lighter flaring up, and a whoosh of breath. "Unfortunatly for you Mary is out of town until next Tuesday-"

"Son of a _fuck._" He growled with less emotion than one would think for such a phrase.

"-But depending on how desperate you really are I might be able to point you in the direction of someone who might be of assistance."

He stopped for a moment, staring at the warped panneled walls of his bedroom and chewing his lip in deep thought. "You're talking about Hidan aren't you?" No one else he associated with had the balls to carry the substance on their body, dismissing himself and Sasori, of course. In a small town like this one, centered in the near-direct middle of the States where there was nothing but flat land and wheat, the only people who ever moved here were either too fucking stupid to carry illegal substances and get away with it, or were trying to recover from using it. No one moved to places like this just for the hell of it, at least no one with an ounce of intelligence.

"Naturally." Sasori replied, his tone matching his response.

"Is he even going to be up at this hour?"

"Are you kidding? He's a damn vampire Zetsu, you know as well as any other living soul that that git only sleeps when the sun is up."

Again he clicked his tongue, partnered with an eyeroll that he was almost certain Sasori would simply _feel_ without any sight neccessary. "Well, desperation was never a kind bitch. I had to sell my last token of love just to manage a ride back from that abomination. That place was lackluster as they come but they sure as hell didn't let you get away with anything. I'm fucking wasting away here." He picked absently at the dirt under his nails as he spoke, lacking any sort of emotion to back his claims. It wasn't so much an act of desperation or addiction, or maybe it even was, to fuck if he cared enough to care... Merely it was more like the only thing that brought vauge interest. Again to address the location, there was simply nothing else to do that could keep him entertained, and sleep didn't yet call out to him.

"Well give him a damn ring then and quit your whining. I'll be over when I'm over."

Zetsu's brows shot up at this, the corner of his mouth crooking slightly further than it already had been through out the entire conversation. "I'm not home for ten minutes and you're inviting yourself over?"

"You're not home for ten minutes and you're already a pain in my arse! I'm already awake, I won't be going back to sleep anytime soon and now you've put the want in my head. "

An actual chuckle this time from 'Zettie' before the man on the other end continued. "And it's not as if you mysteriously dropped off the face of the planet without a bloody word, Zetsu." Said a single decible lower and quite a few softer, before he switched back to his usual nearly-bored sounding voice. "I want to see what comes of this reunion with that loud-mouthed baboon. You know he's apt to be out of his mind around this time. Some of the tangents he goes off on are good enough for a chuckle."

"But mainly for Mary." Zetsu corrected, not quite smiling but certianly not emotionless.

A snort. "Of course for Mary, Twit."

"Your friendship still knows no bounds, Sasori."

"You're the one who made this a business call." The man replied, as bored as ever. A soft click followed right after it, no 'goodbye' or 'see you later' offered.

...

Foregoing the phonecall to the other member of his socially inept friend circle under the knowledge that it would likley shift inevitabley into either a one-sided shouting match or a gruesomely long conversation about whatever the man's drug-heavy mind came up with, Zetsu instead used the time to shower. Hidan San was a loud, obnoxious idiot, but he was far from a threat. Showing up unannounced wouldn't deign any more consequence than a vocal beating, and judging by exactly which narcotic the albino man was currently using he may or may not be over-emotional at this 'reunion', as Sasori called it. Though honestly it wasn't that big a deal to Zetsu himself. He had never really felt exceptionally close to him or really any of the group. But fortunatly for him, friendship wasn't always a matter of fluffy feelings and shared interest among these folk, as far as he was concerned it was all just a matter of acceptance. That and the general moodset of those he graced his presence with.

And if there were any more unlikley group if individuals that somehow managed to ignore the common laws of humanity and remain friends despite the fact that each and every one if them had extremely little in common with any given other, aside from the fact that they all deeply detested each other so much at times that it occasionally bordered on obsession, Zetsu had never heard of them. That being the case, acceptance among this group was not all that hard to come by. If you had any sort of quirk entertaining enough to repeatedly make fun of, you were in. His own being a tendancy to be slightly eccentric about anything within the definition range of 'creepy' and 'macabre'. Sasori's would be his devotion to marijuana that nearly bordered on the erotic, hence his tendancy to treat the drug as an actual lady, and on few occasions not even in a humorous context.

Hidan was similar to Sasori, but at the same time on a whole other level. Sasori was a one-drug kind of man, who seemed to think his singular use of it sat him at an intelligence level far beyond the other's despite the fact that the man was completley ignorant to any subject that required any sort of in-depth knowledge. Hidan has at one point or another experimented with every drug under the sun, and additionally, liked to boast himself to be immortal due to his insane amount of survived near-death experiences. The man was only 22, but had been hospitalized most likely somewhere near the same number. One could also argue the point that he's easily the dumbest person Zetsu had ever met, a side effect of his lifestyle but also just a normal part of his personality.

Personal feelings aside though, except from being outrageously annoying, which in all honesty each member of this misfits club had achieved at least once, he'd never done anything to earn ill-will.

Which is why they'd be making the trip without so much as a heads-up or even moderate consideration as for whatever means of insanity the man might currently be up to. Respect and common curteousy had no place among the degenerates he deemed his 'friends' for lack of any other word that was easily accepted by others. All in all they really were nothing more than a group of cynical, small-town folk that destested everything and anything about the real world so strongly that they were content to keep living in their miserable state, each of them thinking, though never to agree with anyone else's diagnonsis of the fact, that life simply would not be any better anywhere else, as life in general is just a dirty, rotten thing.

Where would anyone as negative as them find solace anyway? In the eyes of humanity, there is always _something_ to complain about. In the eyes of a cynical asshole, there is always _everything_ to complain about.

Sasori arrived about ten minutes after Zetsu re-dressed himself, as usual looking like the drug dealer he was -with his curly head of unbrushed hair, black hoodie, black skinny jeans and giant cargo boots that had to be at least two sizes too big- and blatantly ignoring the fact.

The puce-haired man only tsk'd at him before slipping his cell in his pocket and leaving 'The place I live' that had just graduated to 'home' not two hours after returning from a month long involuntary vacation.

...

"I can't believe you think you can just fucking walk in here like you're king shit and expect some fucking grand gesture from me." Hidan slurred out, sprawled half-naked on what Zetsu could only assume used to be a coffee table.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't expect anything like that." He said calmly, assessing the situation with little attention paid to the man himself. his home was in better shape foundationally, but the blatant and possibley intentional disregard to the building and lack of even basic upkeep had it looking to be in far worse condition. His house was decrepit merely from age, the one Hidan kept residence in was tortured on a daily basis. Holes spattered over the walls as if someone had spilled a vat of acid. Trash, clothing, really any manner of things were littered among the floor so thickly that the carpet beneath (as least he thought maybe there was carpet) hadn't been spotted for years. There was also the distinct smell of something dead and decomposed floating out from one of the back rooms, thought that could be anything from rotten food to a dead animal... If walls, indeed, could talk, this one would likley beg to be set aflame and cleansed from ever having existed in such an abysmal state. Zetsu locked all that was dark and strange and disturbing, but this was just... pitiful.

"What? So you think I'm gonna fucking smoke you out for free after you just _disappear_ for nearly a year?! Friends don't do that shit to each other man!"

"...It's been a month you bludgering idiot." Sasori sighed, uncrossing his arms to turn and wonder into the kitchen. "And you didn't know he was gone until last week after insulting him for two hours and not getting any response."

"No, It's been a fucking year, Fire-crotch. I haven't seen _Kuro_ in a motherfucking _year."_

Sasori returned only gave him a blank stare, Hidan returned it for a few heartbeats before the red-head turned stiffly to Zetsu. "His mental condition hasn't improved much in your or anyone's absence." Then returned to the wrecked Kitchen.

Zetsu snorted, the smallest bit of teeth flashing from the semi-creepy grin he attempted to give his poor, confused acquaintance." Stupidity is not technically referred to as a 'condition'. Though it would make far more sense in society if it were."

"YOU'RE DEAD TO ME YOU FUCKING BROCCOLI! Get out of my house before I feed you to a fucking gerbil!" Hidan shouted up to the ceiling, waving his hands around as he tried in futility to rock himself off his back, making Zetsu think for a moment of a drunken turtle.

He felt the small crook of his lips again as he turned in boredom to glance around the building. It looked slightly more full of trash than he remembered it usually being, but hell if he even remembered correctly, as half-lucid as he'd been for the past month, but aside from that it was all the same.

Everything was the same. Sasori and his bland but pleasant disinterest in anything at all that didn't involve weed, his beat-up station wagon that was years past being on it's last leg, Hidan's erratic and rebellious attitude toward any living thing in the immediate area... Even his own house was the same emotionless void he'd left it in. The same, always, whether he left for a week or month or year or eternity. He could return to this little niche, forgotten from the general progression of humanity, and here would be his 'friends' and their houses and possessions, safeguarded somehow against time though everything within touch seemed to be on the very verge of failure or death.

It wasn't dissapointing really, men who lived useless and moderatly depressing lives like they did rarely ever changed until they either were forced to or died. So it was basically nothing more than an observation. Logic that his mind produced that he'd never bothered to argue with. _Seems legit_, other's would say, with a shrug of disregard. Ignorance at it's finest. Or perhaps more truthfully, denial. Why dig down into the core of any issue at all when one could simply stay on the surface and be spared the mind-altering truths. 'I simply do not care to care.' Zetsu says so often. So much zest for life he harbored within that twig of a body, he did...

"Do you have anything to eat that's not intended for a bloody toddler?!" Sasori snapped from the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors in quick succession as if he might starve in the next five seconds. Re-emerging and coming to repeat his previous stance in his previous spot holding a can of some off-brand instant ravioli. "Honestly... I'm assuming that pimp of yours hasn't checked in on you recently."

"Kuzu is not my pimp... You shit... eater." Hidan un-entergetically and somewhat breathlessly corrected.

"You have sex with people for money and give it to him, you nob. That constitutes him as a pimp, and you as his prostitute." Sasori explained to him in what sounded like a rehearsed pattern, examining the can in his hands as he did so before looking up at Zetsu with an eye-roll. "We go through this every time, I don't know why he insists on defending his dignity as if he's even got any left."

"Oooh my God who left the door opennn..." Hidan groaned, suddenly falling still with an arm draped over his eyes.

Sasori and Zetsu exchanged emotionless glances.

"There's way too much air in here. I can't fucking breathe..."

The redhead let out a long sigh and started moving again, going to stand beside the broken table where Hidan was seconds from becoming unconcious, drawing back his arm and laying a slap across the pale face that made Zetsu flinch away and hiss in a breath in a show of faux sympathy. It wasn't brutality, not in the least. The things Hidan put into his body made physical pain so much of a joke that at any random point the man might even find it pleasureable. That abuse had likley felt like nothing more than a fly landing for a fleeting second and taking off again. "Wake up you twit. Our friend has returned after all this time and wants to have a go with Mary. Show some damn loyalty." Sasori calmly stated afterward.

The assaulted body was on his feet in two seconds and before anyone could comprehend the situation he had snatched Zetsu by the shirt and shoved him back against the wall, stepping forward until their chests pressed together and they were practically sharing breath.

"Fuck you and your loyalty." Hidan growled, assumingly to Sasori but glaring darkly into Zetsu's almond-brown eyes. "All of us are fucking crazy here, what gives _you_ the right to go on a fucking vacation?"

Behind them, Sasori rolled his eyes. Zetsu felt much like doing the same, despite the very small part of him that was amused by the fact that he almost appreciated the random normality of the situation. Indeed, when locked in a place so void of any emotion at all, witnessing it with the intensity that Hidan radiated after escaping was like a 'welcome home' party.

"Every fucking day trapped in this goddamn hell hole and you think you're special for some fucking reason..." Hidan went on, his voice dark and thick but his eyes focused, fiery with anger that was both envious and understanding. "You just can't let it fucking go can you? Beg for death or insanity, whichever comes first. Then you fucking get it, and you just can't let it go."

"Hidan..." Sasori interrupted as the two had their eyes locked, Hidan seeming as if searching, waiting for some realization. Zetsu only stareing back in controlled, calm, amusement. For the very briefest of moments, it sounded almost as if there were a warning floating around in the air, but the puce-haired man's desire to pay attention was so lacking that in the next instant it was already gone and forgotten.

Zetsu sighed finally and extended his leg slowly, wrapped it around Hidan's ankle, and then shoved him. He landed hard on his ass with the usual protests, but the 'broccoli' only looked down at him as if he were fondly watching a puppy chase it's tail. Sasori's ugly frown indicated he was resisting laughter, as any forced form of emotion usually meant he was feeling the opposite and over-compensating.

Hidan blinked a few times, looked up at the man who'd just dropped him as if he'd only now realized he was here, and grinned. "Fuck it. Kuro... Let's light this bitch up!"

.

This is the general reaction he was greeted with throughout the rest of the day, though all of the following had been much more controlled and included far less physical or even vocal violence. Not a single one of his 'friends' made much effort to seem pleased that he was back, aside from a 'Welcome back' here and a 'Hn.' there, which was a good thing. He hadn't expected them to miss him, and he hadn't missed any of them. But... it _was_ comforting to be back, warm welcome or not. Perhaps he had issues, but anyone even a quarter within their right mind would be somehwat grateful to escape that aweful place he'd been.

It was just the three of them for hours, saying very little to one another, light conversation at it's very lightest. At one point Zetsu finally noticed the underlying density in the air that fluxed when Hidan had brief moments of clarity and exchanged words with Sasori. The two had always had this sort of mutual disdain for each other that at some points even went as far as to resemble sexual tension. They seemed to peg themselves as so very opposite that occasionally it was as if they were each studying each other, interested in how the other person could possibly feel and think the way they did.

With quite a bit of confidence though, Zetsu knew that this was possibley just his strange mind making something out of nothing for the sake of entertainment. Hidan quite boldly stated that he'd fuck anything with a pulse, but in his own insane way everyone who'd ever seen the two together knew that he had an unhealthy obsession with Kakuzu, who in return was either smart enough or heartless enough not to ever let even so much as a sliver of a hint leak that they were involved when around anyone else. And perhaps they weren't even, any outcome or theory was belivable with a Hidan thrown into the equasion.

Finally the clock read just after two in the afternoon, at which point a blonde came strolling through the door, tailed by black-haired teen that looked as if he might actually _be_ a vampire. Deidara Iwa and Itachi Uchiha, he recalled, having joined the group only just recently after joining Kakuzu Hoku's 'enterprise' as 'employee's'. Two boys with the same lack of zeal for life that were reeled in by Kakuzu's promises; company and connections, drugs and the bare necessesities provided for them all for the mere price of their bodies, with a possible side affect of plummeting mental health. Then again, a person couldn't be all that stable to begin with if they were interested enough in someone with Kakuzu's appearance and aura to actually risk speaking with him...

Sasori's phone began buzzing almost constantly with his 'clients' no more than half an hour after that, and with a swear,he excused himself to go 'deal with them'. And then a few hours were spent slowly as the newcomer Deidara- who's quirk was his unfathomable passion for anything and everything that included fire- explained his morning of trying desperatly to resist setting this particularly _dry_-looking building ablaze with the flint-lighter he pickpocketed, and then burning whatever random bits of trash were within his reach in one of Hidan's glass ash-trays, which was actually quite a bit of miscellaneous, flammable objects, and such meant this might go on for hours.

Itachi remained mainly silent, as he usually did, but not once until he left did he let the pipe, casually passed around the room between the three of them (Hidan had retired to bed about two hours after sunrise.) leave his sight. Itachi's quirk... well, Zetsu supposed in all fairness it was actually rather tragic and shouldn't be brushed off as some tweak in the boy's personality... Itachi's _situation_ fell into the familial abuse category. As far as Itachi as a person went, Zetsu wasn't all that familiar with him, as he rarely spoke and when he did it was in such a way that it could quite literally be interpereted into just about anything you wanted it to be. In fact the group had often had discussions (Loud and obnoxious arguements) about the raven-haired teen vampire and the inner-workings of his mind, and even while he was sitting right next to them, no less. He still hadn't uttered a word in either defense or support. Despite it all Zetsu thought him very interesting, and the dark, twisted part of him sparked for a heartbeat when he'd walked in at the fact that the teen was still around, though he was confused for a moment as to why he'd think he wouldn't be. It was quickly pushed from his mind though, as with dissapointment he realized that the man didn't speak and therefore it was very close to impossible to get any sort of read on him as a person aside from everyone else's judgements and deductions unless he went out of his way to become personal friends with the younger man. Zetsu had a very strict policy against putting effort into making friends, seeing as he ran so short of affection these days...

Deidara, on the other hand, rarely stopped talking. It was rather easy to get a read on him, just from a mere glance, no less. It had absoloutly nothing to do with the piercing blonde of his hair or the dark and dull glint in his blue eyes. Deidara was a kindred spirit to all of them, with a morbidity and darkness to him that he embraced and enjoyed without reluctance or restraint, which set him apart from the normal, healthy humans that opposed and rejected things deemed 'inappropriate'. Though he was still a teenager and still in the teenager mindset, which offered the irrational sense that he and his thoughts and desires alone were the single most important and interesting thing on the planet. There simply was no time for him to sit and listen to someone elses's opinions, even if he should sit there for hours and remain silent. 'In one ear and out the other,' as they say.

"Would you just l-look at it? I can't understand how the hell you p-people can't fathom the sheer beauty of this fucking element!" He said, staring at the soda bottle burning away in front of him with giant eyes and a demented grin. Another quirk was his stutter, made worse when he was excited or angry, which was 75 percent of the time. "I swear, Satan has no idea what he's in for when he t-takes me."

Zetsu regarded him with only the barest of smirks on an otherwise expressionless face. "It's often stated that the lowest levels of hell are more similar to an arctic wasteland than an inferno. You, Deidara, would probably be placed on the 7th level, reserved for those who regularly partake in acts of violence."

"Hah. Don't start with that religious b-bullshit. You'll have Hidan come racing out here, Fuck knows I c-can't stand his company half the time."

_Because you are so terribley similar. _His smirk didn't falter at the thought. There were, in his opinion, two broad divisions of people. Every being possessed the ability to be intelligent, also in his opinion. The seperation existed, in his own hypothesis, in the knowing or even unknowing ability to know this and indulge in it. And from there on there were hundreds and hundreds of sub-divisions to further organize each and every type of person. For example, he and Sasori would be in the original category where the ability to be intelligent is embraced. Deidara and Hidan, while still fully capable of deep thought, would be in the second; Able to do so, but much more apt to act purely of emotion than intelligence. 'Ignorance is bliss' they also say. Zetsu finds this to be quite true.

"You _are_ burning his property currently." He replied with no amount of emotion for the fact that he was only pointing out the obvious.

Deidara, acting true to Zetsu's judgement of him, somehow found the nonexistant emotion of this and adjusted accordingly with defensive sarcasm. "Oh please. I'm disposing of his t-trash. It's a damn f-favor if anything."

Itachi suddenly sat forward, studying Zetsu with an intensity that made it very hard to hold the mans gaze with feigned nonchalance. Here, in the moments when the boy spoke, it seemed to him that perhaps Itachi Uchiha was not lumped in the intelligent quota, but perhaps more a slave to the emotional. "There are three inner levels to the seventh level of hell..." He said quietly. "The middle one being violence against oneself. Suicide." The blank look that smothered every inch of his face except for his eyes, which were alight with a mixture of some emotion Zetsu couldn't quite name, had his heart beating just slightly faster. Or perhaps... he was very well within his own category, able to switch back and forth on a whim. So intelligent and so aware that he could intentionally choose not to be.

A long silence filled the room as the unspoken accusation floated between the two. Zetsu absently searched his mind, fogged with the influence of Marijuana, for some sort of retort. Unable to find anything mainly for a lack of energy and simply not much careing for the Uchiha's opinion, despite his interest. Zetsu's emotions, he often rationalized to himself, were more like artifacts in a museum. '_Oh, look, there's anger. That one is ugly. Let's look at this one. Affection. Oh, looks at if it requires so much energy. On to the next_...' This, he supposed, was probably more due to disassociation, for lack of a better word. For those who don't understand from that, he could dumb it down to simply say his 'insanity', as he's been deemed several time. Perhaps, socio-path, but without the malice. He did not choose not to feel emotion the way other's did, he simply did not know how on 99.9999 percent of occasions.

"Psh, It-tachi, we're all fucking going to hell. Don't start getting f-fucking presumputous like that after never f-fucking saying anything, _ever._"

Itachi finally broke his stare to lean back in his seat, looking over to Deidara as if nothing on interest had just occurred as the blonde continued. "And besides, you'd go to the s-same damn place. Cutting is a sub-category of suicide, and it's the very f-fucking definition of self-harm."

_Attacking the emotions._ Zetsu thought, _by stating facts... _interesting. Whether it be the effects of the drugs or just his own personality changing with his mood, he didn't know. He felt himself still stuck in that half-smirk though, not sure of why.

Itachi replied with nothing more than his usual 'hn' and lifted the pipe to his lips again, flicking the lighter and mentally distancing himself once again from the conversation. One moment he acts on emotion, the next he disregards. _Uchiha's are so very interesting_...

He blinked himself from that thought, genuineley confused for a moment at that specific thought, then confused as to why he was confused. For a millionth of a second he felt a clarity that caused a glorious pain to tingle in his darkest parts, as if he had just stumbled across some unimaginable secret that he had unknowingly been searching for, before he was distracted completley, and even the memory of the memory was wiped from history, never to have existed.

"So anyway, K-Kuro." Deidara went on, waving his hands. "Have you gone to see the Ame's yet? Some crazy shit's happened between those three since you been g-gone."

"I haven't." He replied simply, reaching to receive the pipe from Itachi when it was extended to him. "Do tell, though."

The Ame's were all siblings, each of which had the tendancy to come and go from the haphazard little group as they pleased in order to adventure with different social circles or just to do nothing at all. They always ended up coming back though, for the drug connection if nothing else. The oldest of them was Konan, the only woman who regularly associated with the group. Aside from being a major tom-boy with the habit of transforming into a raging bitch, her quirk had yet to be figured out just yet by Zetsu. She _was_ kind of a slut, or at least made herself out to be, despite the fact that she continually shot down Kakuzu's efforts to induct her into his ring of sex-trafficing.

Her two brothers, Yahiko and Nagato, fraternal twins, were sexual deviants who rejected any sort of prolonged friendship with anyone besides each other. They had a superiority complex that was completley unbased, in most of the groups opinion, and despite their rediculous amount of sexual encounters with just about every soul in town willing to experiment with them, had yet to say a kind word about anyone aside from each other. Before being admitted to the mental facility he'd been trapped in for so long, there had been a bet going to see how long the brothers would keep denying their incestual relationship with each other. 'Antisocial personality disorder', they were unprofessionally diagnosed with. It wasn't so uncommon in identical twins, who understood each other on a far deeper level than any other human being could. No one else could ever live up to the standards that the twin held. Though, it was far more unusual for them to develop a sexual relations, at least as far as recorded data went...

"Well, you know how Konan and K-Kisame were having that f-fling that they thought no one else fucking knew ab-bout? Well somewhere in there I g-guess he started beating on her. The twins j-joined up to try and knock the s-shit out of him, but of c-course you know he fucking owned both of them. They were in the ho-hospital for awhile which of course got the whole f-fucking situation out on the town. " He paused in his story long enough to grab the pipe from Zetsu, inhaling from it and holding his breath for nearly a full minute before exhaling a large puff of smoke.

"Anyway, K-Konan's a fucking meth-head now, or heroine, or fucking c-crack I don't fucking know. Some k-kind of hard-core fucking drug, s-so g-goes the rumor. That religious nutjob could probably f-fucking tell you. Though p-personally I think she's been doing it ever since she f-found out her brother's were f-fucking. I mean, you _know_ she had to fucking suspect, that bitch is a l-lot of things but stupid isn't one of them. "

"Kisame is not a brute..." Itachi suddenly said, so softly that it almost sounded like more of a sigh.

The two both jerked at this, Deidara to give him incredulous look, and Zetsu to twitch up a questioning brow for a moment, then gave each other the same look, before again turning back to the vampiristic teen. "Are you f-fucking _blind_ Uchiha? He's fucking worse than K-Kakuzu!"

"I don't believe you..." He said back, unwavering, though just as meek as the last statement. "That's not who he really is. He's just afraid to show it..."

Again the eldest of the three found himself staring in interest at the suddenly uncomposed teen. Perhaps it didn't come to a matter of being able to choose between emotion and logic. He still remained in a category all to himself, a slave to both. Two demons holding strings that both attached to him, fighting for control. Understanding that things simply are the way they are, strong and satisfied with the acceptance that the world is dirty and rotten, but also slave to the idea that there is also still hope for the clean.

Perhaps that, or even more masochistic than the lot of them combined, unknowingly aware and still striving to cause himself pain, perhaps only to assure himself that he could...

_Puzzles, puzzles._ Zetsu thought to himself, amused for the fact that this amused him so. The Uchiha would crumble, as the rest of them had, as he already was. But here, still in the process, they all got to watch. The gray and the bleak would smother him too, he would grow to accept it, and just as sthe rest would, could, did, and will repeatedly, he would stop careing to care.

Deidara rolled his eyes before reaching across the small space to give Zetsu a nudge and tip his head toward the now sullen Uchiha. "He c-came out of the closet finally, He's got that bastard in his sights. I'm guessing it's the daddy-issues. Thinks he can _change_ him or some s-shit."

_Only alive admist misery. Careing is his quirk. Destroying himself by invitation._ Zetsu decided suddenly, shrugging and leaning back in his seat before lifting his hands into a stretch. Perhaps not as interesting as he'd thought. It was only a new kind of darkness, camouflaged in light. Interesting, but then again, he couldn't care any further. Everything was black. He'd almost forgotten.

Kisame's quirk was, as might be assumed, he was an angry, violent, testosterone-heavy bastard. In secrecy, he thought maybe Itachi's declarations might be somewhere near the truth. Someone that ruthless was obviously making up for something, but as for means of providing proof of such a statement, there was none. The feelings on the subject were pretty well equally devided among all of them. _He's simply mean, mean is his quirk. He has reason to be mean, no, he's damaged. he likes the anger, sadistic, evil, he's mean to feel, he's mean to test you._ All number of reasons, as much of a mystery as any of the others. Excruciatingly clear to Zetsu and yet, he didn't care too much. The man was mean, it didn't cause fear or dislike in him. He was mean like Zetsu was uncareing, like Deidara was selfish, like Kakuzu was greedy and Hidan was unstable.

The man has a vascular medical condition in which, as Zetsu understands it, (which isn't an easy thing to do because the man doesn't possess enough intelligence to explain it thoroughly) his arteries are half the size they should be, which results in terrible circulation and bloodflow. In response to this problem the man's non-pulmonary veins have become engorged, which, along with lack of proper oxygenation, has given his skin the tendancy to turn a shade of grayish-blue from time to time. This of course got the man noticed quite often, so it would make sense that he would have to become aggressive and strong to secure a place in the world when in all instances the man really should be humbled and frail from such a burdon. It made sense, and yet could be argued at any point. Zetsu was not one for philosophy, as that required a passion and zest that had already been established as practically nonexistant. The others could argue, he could make his own thoughts, but the interest had left long ago, held for even less of an instant that had been possessed by Itachi.

All in all, when he was actually calm, he wasn't such a bad guy. The entire problem was just getting the man to _remain_ calm. He had this near infuriating tendancy to take everything as an insult to his person, even things that in no way or shape even remotely resembled an insult. The theory of steroid use by the man had long been generally accepted into the group, no more proof neccessary than his behavior, even though it made no medical sense for the man to survive using any kind of narcotic having the illness that he did.

Zetsu Kuru's associates were of course not the brightest crayons in the box, as hard as some of them tried to pretend. A terrible side effect of being human, he liked to believe, as inhuman, or perhaps, _sub_-human as they all were. Still doomed to rationlize when the rationality was gone, though they knew it to be gone. It was just how things were, dark and dreary, sense making or no. Perhaps Zetsu was a lone soul in his ability to accept the fact, perhaps he was far more insane than the rest. He liked it, because it made sense; nothing made sense, even when it did.

"He's a gentle soul at heart..." Itachi persisted, wringing his hands. "His family brought him up to think that kindness makes you weak, and he was bullied in school for his condition. He told me... He hates himself for acting the way he does... he just doesn't know what else to do now that it's become who he is."

Zetsu raised a brow to feign interest. Dissatisfied, suddenly, with the Uchiha. Puzzleing indeed, because the puzzle was so bland. Expectations built up with paintings of a masterpiece, only for it to be put together with the drawing of a kindergartener. Idiotically simple in it's unco-ordinated complexity. Chaotic rationality. He was used to this, he was bored with this. His own mind was so similarly seperate. Oceans and oceans of untapped thoughts swelling and crashing like tides in such a jumbled mess that any sort of correlation could be made between. Like looking at an ink blot, one person saw a bat, the other saw a butterfly, both unmistakeabley so.

"Don't be f-fucking stupid Itachi!" Deidara all but shouted. "God, I could really beat the shit out of you just for believing all that crap. You really _must_ be blind to b-be so fucking enamored with s-someone like him."

The puce-haired man officially dismissed himself from the conversation at this. Normally he never felt much adversity toward listening to his 'friends' bicker back and forth, or scream, depending on who's company he was keeping... But in this circumstance, fatique was starting to catch up to him, made him less patient, unable to hold the interest, the disassociation to watch reality. He felt... sane... with lack of sleep. Human. And quite frankly it didn't suit him. He'd only been up for 48 hours straight, after all. Insomnia was more Sasori's thing, he didn't enjoy it, and thusly didn't normally encourage or embrace it.

A quick glance to his phone showed it to be just after 6, and he smiled to himself. There was one more person he needed to see, pretty well the only person he actually considered a friend, if not a close friend at that. only single entity that could make him care just enough to care just enough. Affection, incomprehensible to him, that flowed so slightly on it's own, the slight movement of a still portrait, look away, swear something moved, look again and it's the same, but new, because it _just might _have changed.

So he stretched again, took one more hit from the pipe as it passed his way, and then pushed from his seat. "So... Where would Tobi likley be at this hour?"

For a moment the two teens only stared up at him as if he were speaking nonsense. Then Deidara's eyes shrunk to a normal size and he turned to look at Itachi, who shrugged. For whatever reason anyone would find this curious, Zetsu did not. The unexpected was expected, even when not. Because life was gray and bleak, always the same, even when not, and he just didn't care to care.

"No Id-dea, Kuru..." The blonde finally answered in a way that was almost as if it was more of a question than a reply.

Zetsu clicked his tongue and popped his knuckles. "That Idiot needs to get a damn phone. It's the twenty-first century after all..." He muttered before turning around with no more of a goodbye than a brief wave, and left the destroyed dwelling.

...

Indeed it didn't seem as though much had changed at all, despite Deidara's belief that they had. Those two hadn't gotten far past intruductions by the time he'd been incarcerated in a prison far worse than jail. This was all new to them, therefore they considered 'change' as anything even slightly different than it used to be, whereas the veteran members, such as himself, considered change to be nothing less than someone dying, moving away, or 'turning over a new leaf', in that specific order.

Like he'd said, people like them really didn't change until they were forced to or died. Always the same, even if not. Because that was life, that was the world, the way things were. Everything was black. Grey, dreary, dull, chaotic, and shifting, but black.

Despite the lack of interesting surroundings, Zetsu Kuru was glad to be back, even if he'd never admit it aloud. After all, anything at all was preferrable to the monotonous hell of a psyche ward.

It took nearly an hour to hike back to his house, he'd had to walk of course, seeing as Sasori had so kindly left him stranded there and he'd be damned if he was going to ask a couple teenagers to give him a lift. He may be deemed mentally unstable by psychologists, disassociation, emotionless and uncareing, but his humanity remained dignified. He didn't care to care, and yet he was unsatisfied with the situation that had just happened between the two. A sense of dislocation, not that of disassociation, rather the opposite. That he was where he was, and it was unsettling. Confused, and confused by the confusion, further confusion from the confused confusion. And that museum, '_the anger looks ugly' _ was robbed of the ugly and the theif ran rampant, spilling it in splotches everywhere with dots and splashes of red all amongst the black.

Unacceptable.

And so he retreated silently from himself. Close the windows until the theif was caught, he'd visit the museum tomorrow.

Along the way he'd gotten a text from Sasori that read 'Tomorrow, my place. Mary came home early." And had replied with the all clear. No specific time was given, and it wasn't as if Zetsu had a job any longer, though he probably needed to go looking for one, lest he be reduced to the Red head's brand of work again. It was tempting, seeing as being a dealer meant no getting up early, no dealing with annoying co-workers or employers. You get your money instantly and it meant you constantly had your own hook-up. He thought though that the stresses of such a job were probably something he should avoid, as he really didn't want to end up in a mental hospital again with short-term amnesia. And the alternative wasn't all that pretty either...

So, no, he decided there and then that he'd try another road. Men that lead lives like them rarely changed until they were forced too. Surely, no one was holding a gun to his head demanding he make such decisions, but it seemed pretty clear that something had to be changed after all... maybe...

Now was just the fact of actually changing. He supposed it would be made clearer tomorrow. Until then, such thoughts were best left to fend for themselves. Because he didn't care to care. But perhaps he would tomorrow. _Black, black, black, when everything was black._

After a second shower to wash off the terrible reek of Hidan's residence that had sunk into his clothes and hair, he searched through a few of his hiding places, hoping desperatley that he could find at least one, or hell, even _half_ of one cigarette, as he'd been so caught up in that _touching_ reunion that he'd completley forgotten to get a few from either Sasori or Hidan. He hadn't had a dose of nicotene since leaving the facility, and that was in the form of that repulsive gum.

Really, the people who swore to the Gods that 'You'll never know the difference!' Were the biggest trash of all society.

He let out a satisfied half-groan when he came across a box of Marlboro* reds, and then gave an actual moan-turned-laugh when he opened it and found it half-full. Shortly following the search for a lighter, he was settled in his recliner in his darkened livingroom (thanks to light-canceling curtians), staring at at television that wasn't turned on, as he currently didn't have power, nor cable after not paying the bills due to his situation, and thinking about nothing and everything in particular.

_We live in a mind like this one,_  
><em>Broken beyond repair.<em>  
><em>And the only way to cope and live,<em>  
><em>is to forget that we were there.<em>

_The dark is not dark in the darkness._

Despite the absolute quiet of the house, he didn't even bat an eye when a hand was suddenly placed on his shoulder. Instead he only grinned, still staring at the blank T.V.

"I wondered if I'd have to track you down..." He said, robbed again of the affection, dripping and leaking across the dull and dreary but in a way much more controlled and suitable to him. A smile and smirk would be foreign at any other point in time with any other person, but he didn't notice now. It was natural, irrational, but he accepted because that's just how it was. This is reality and that's just fine. Not all confusion was confusing.

The hand gave him a slight squeeze before a figure sauntered around the front of the chair and plopped itself down onto the couch. "I heard you were here hours ago, I've been waiting for you to come home."

"I figured, unless you've somehow become the ultimate ninja and can break a window without the slightest hint of sound." He took a particularly deep drag of the cigarette, letting the breath out in a content sigh as he melted down into the seats. "You do realize there are only so many other places I would be when I'm not home. Wouldn't have taken you any time at all to find me."

There was a very small stretch of silence, and Zetsu finally tore his gaze from the black box to look at his closest friend, eyes immediatly alighting on the decorative piece meant to hang on walls(as far as Zettie was concerned) concealing the man's features. "They would be much more inclined to accept you if you'd just show them your face, you know."

Tobi reached up to gently run his fingertips over the orange and black swirls of his mask. "I don't wish them to accept me. I care nothing for their feelings toward me. If I don't absoloutly have to be in their presence, I'd rather not."

Zetsu breathed a laugh. "Anti-socials gotta stick together, don't we?"

"That statement is a contradiction." Tobi said in an almost annoyed tone, then continueing in one far more light-hearted. "Then again, the entire world is a contradiction. Nothing makes sense, does it?"

Black, black, black. Beautiful and black. Tobi understood, Tobi has always understood. He did not care to care, except that he cared when they could feel. It makes sense because it doesn't, there is no logic in this place and that's what makes it so predictable. Always the same, because it never is. He understands, he understands. He is black, and the world is dull and grey and he doesn't care to care because that's _just how it is._

"It makes a lot more sense now that I don't have people constantly telling me that it doesn't." He growled, lifting the cigarette to his lips again. "I agree that it doesn't, of course it doesn't. But they argue and argue as if I'm telling them otherwise. Imbeciles and trash... "

"It's certianly good to have you back. It felt like years..."

_Dark is dark and light is light._  
><em>Black is black and white is white.<em>

Illogical logic. Because dark and black are bad and ugly. It's not, they don't understand. They don't understand, even those who came close to understanding could understand, kindred sprirts with quirks and abnormalities, those that weren't quite human, or less than human. His 'friends' who are friends but only for lack of an easier word to explain, alike but so different, together and yet so terribley fucking alone. Black and dark are not bad, when bad is never more than a word or thought or opinion. Zetsu likes the black, and he likes the dark. Twisted and creepy but this is normal, this is average, because he didn't care to label it otherwise. That was the world, and that is okay.

Tobi does though. Tobi is all that there is to offer. All the acceptance and logic and 'normality' in the world are there. Because who fucking cares? Not Zetsu, and not Tobi. They know, though they don't, though they do.

"I missed you too, Tobi..." He let out the smoke, eyes flicking to the ceiling to stare in thought, squinting as a particular one snaked it's way into his head. "What... happened? Before I went?"

Tobi only stared back at him in silence, the entirety of his face hidden beneath the strange mask, save for one eye, which was a charcoal color anyway, and blended into the darkness. Zetsu wasn't uncomfortable though, Everyone he knew was strange, they all had their quirks. Tobi's was just generally being an ominous wierdo. He was just as harmless as any of the others, excluding Kisame and maybe Kakuzu, of course. Normal and natural and black as sin. But is sin a sin or is the rejection of sin?

"I kept asking them, but no one would say anything. 'Why am I here? How did I get here? What happened to me?' All they would ever give is cryptic, non-commital answers, or treat me like some idiot who didn't know what he was saying. 'Why do _you_ think you're here, Kuro? How do _you_ think you got here, Kuro?' I swear if they wouldn't have just kept me there longer I would have torn out their damn throats. Bunch of incompetent fools." He finished the statement by taking an angry drag of the cigarette and then putting it out in much the same manner.

The damned theif was loose, still loose and spilling the anger and ugly. he didn't like it, it was unacceptable. He stole them. He stole them all, and as they sloshed and splashed they painted the black in a picture and the picture made him feel confused and the confusion was confusing because the world was the way it is and that should be okay but suddenly it was not. Suddenly something was wrong, and not wrong in a manner of speaking, not wrong in the way it might be portrayed by any sub-human, not wrong as perceived by the perceiver but actually and literally _wrong._

"You killed yourself." Tobi said. But Zetsu did not take this literally, because it was so obviously figurative. Everything and anything can be left to relitivity, but even the most insane of the insane can tell you that there is real and not real and some things are undeniabley not real. This was reality, he was alive here and Tobi was being funny, hilariously so because he was blatantly making fun of those who did not understand, but Zetsu understood because he understood Tobi just as Tobi understood him.

He smiled at Tobi and with something close to an audible click inside his head, it was all pure black again.

Zetsu remained silent, resenting the humiliation and shame but thinking it silly and humerous at the same time. "I just can't figure why I'd do that. I don't understand. That's what I keep hearing, 'Zettie tried to kill himself'. It's like I can hear what they're thinking..." He paused to run his hands through his still-wet hair, touseling it in an frustrated manner. "I'm not fucking crazy though. Not any moreso than any of _them_."

"I've always thought you were far more intelligent, if anything." Tobi added.

"So what the fuck happened to me? Do you think I was drugged? Maybe Hidan accidentally gave me PCP or LCD or something instead of weed?"

"Disassociation." Tobi stated, his voice indicating that he was looking at his friend in a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Sometimes starts to feel like dislocation."

Zetsu only spent a few more moments in silence, thinking it over. Everything was okay again. His house was quiet and soft with age and the smell of emptyness. The very air full of the comfort of wisdom and pain, of seeing and knowing many many things. It was disgusting and collapsing, infesting and rotten, but it was warm and welcoming because that was his quirk. He was creepy and dark and macabe, and there was no 'crazy' in that. It was just him. It was the way things were, and that was acceptable. Then with a grunt he shrugged it away. "S'pose it doesn't matter now. As long as I'm out."

"It's certianly good to have you back." Tobi said again.

There was a very long silence between them again as the two just stared back and forth between each other, enjoying the company without the pesky interferance of words. _This_ is what true friendship was, to the puce-hair. It didn't revolve around how often one 'hung out' with the other, what they did together, number of similarities between them. As he'd said, it was a matter of acceptance. Not just acceptance as a person, acceptance of everything, even the lasting silences. That he could just sit here with Tobi and feel so at ease, enjoy his time together without having to fill it with drugs or conversation. Not feeling the pressure to know what the other was thinking, or feeling. And just being okay.

Yes, 'the group' might be dear acquantiances, even Sasori himself might be closer to him than the others. But Zetsu had a very particular way of seeing things, just as his residence had not become a 'home' until only recently, this masked man before him was the only person worthy of the title 'friend' in its true and actual meaning.

"There is something I've been meaning to tell you, however." Tobi suddenly continued, as if 15 minutes of absolute silence had not occurred. Zetsu only quirked a brow in question, resisting the urge to light another cigarrette. He only had 9 left now, after all.

"Someone has filtched your identity on the web."

It took a moment for this to even register with the still-stoned man slumped in the recliner, basking in the peace of the acceptance of the world again. Understanding that he understood because he didn't. "...What? Who?"

"I do not know who. I haven't been sure what to make of it, I cannot decode as to whether they are trying to mock you or not."

His face twisted momentarily in confusion and thought alike before he impulsivley lit up another smoke, needing something to do with his hands while he pondered this. How could someone be stealing his identity on the internet? He never even went on the internet, the most he had was a damn email account, and that was only because Sasori had set it up for him so he could join the world of social networking, which he'd never done, because who the fuck cares about some random person halfway around the world?

Tobi took the silence as a gesture to continue, as intended. He understands, he always understands. "I have not engaged this person as I haven't decrypted their plans or means. They often claim to be stuck in a mental re-habilitation center, unable to remember why or how they got here."

"Sure sounds like mocking to me." Zetsu all but growled, taking a deep drag. Yes, back in reality, that's where he was. Black is black, thought relitive completley.

"They go by the name Zetsu Shiro, however." Tobi added cautiously.

Another brow quirk. "Well then they're not pretending to be me if they're not using my name." Simple logic. That made sense no matter how you looked at it.

_Dark is dark and light is light. _  
><em>Black is black and white is white.<em>  
><em>It is what it is,<em>  
><em>it's not what it's not.<em>  
><em>But...<em>  
><em>We live in a mind like this one,<em>  
><em>Broken beyond repair.<em>  
><em>And the only way to cope and live,<em>  
><em>is to forget that we were there.<em>

_The dark is not dark in the darkness.*_

Another stretch of silence, as if the masked man were waiting for his friend to come to some conclusion through mere telepathy. "The coincidence is worthy of concern." He finally said, and Zetsu let out a whoosh of breath.

This was true, to an extent. After all, how many people in the world were named Zetsu? And the using of a last name that was a clever opposite of his own? Not to mention the similarity of the situation. Tobi was right, this needed investigated further.

But... not today. Or at least not right now. There was the matter of even finding a computer or means of investigating this, first of all, before anything could even be done. And at the moment, the farthest the exhausted man could see himself putting forth the effort of moving to was the bedroom. He didn't care to care, but Tobi was something else. Tobi understands him like he understands Tobi and Tobi is concerned... Which meant the only rational thing to do was to care. It made sense because it didn't.

He lifted a hand and waved weakly at his friend. "Right. I'm concerned, but we'll check it out later. "

Tobi nodded. "I'll return when you wake."

And suddenly Zetsu found himself in his bedroom, looking out through eyes fuzzy with the lack of strength to focus at his ceiling just before he lost the battle to keep them open. He was swallowed in the black and floating, content, in a manner of seconds and with certianty he thought to himself;

_Now I am going to dream._

-o-

A/N-

Marlboro* A real brand of cigarettes. Don't own.

* The poem is not a quote, That is something I did. If it is a quote it will specify there and then.

Don't own Naruto characters either.

Kuro means black, Shiro means white. For those of you who didn't know.


	2. Chapter 2 - White

.

Black and White

Chapter 2- White

He was aware of the presence just outside his room half a second before they knocked. Even in his half-asleep state, he found himself instantly aware of exactly what was going on, exactly what time it was, and exactly what that person was going to say to him just as soon as they invited themselves into his room after not receiving conformation that he had heard the previous knocking.

He mouthed the words to himself beneath the thin blanket still pulled over his head as they were recited by a feminine voice.

"Good Morning Shiro. Breakfast has arrived and the day is waiting."

It was the same every morning, not even Sundays were granted immunity from rising with the sun. Every morning at six they came to his door, knocked, let themselves inside, and recited those exact words as if it were mandatory. Even when the voice was a man's instead, when when it was a nurse he didn't know. They all said the same thing, every time, every day.

They would not leave the room until he responded, he knew. They never left the room until he responded, they never knew when to just go away. They never knew anything, as if they were robots with only the specific goal of serving only a very particular list of needs. Calling him by his first name was apparently not one of those needs.

"My name is Zetsu." He corrected for somewhere near the hundredth time. "What are we having?" He replied, unsure of why his voice sounded so chipper when all he wanted to do was scream. He always wanted to scream, constantly without fail. It had become a habit to just shove the feeling to the back of his concsious, but so early in the morning it made itself a little more known. Every time. Every day.

"Looks like biscuits and sausage gravy today, Shiro."

"I'll be in..." He all but sighed. It didn't matter what they were serving, it was always dull and tasteless, though the nurses always contributed it to a side-effect of the medication. He had noted long ago that none of the staff ever ate the food they served...

When she finally left, he threw the blanket off himself, immediatly noting the seemingly freezing temperature of the room, despite being June. He slipped out of bed and mechanically pulled a long-sleeved, cream colored shirt and matching cotton pants from the cubby they provided in his room. Because drawers were a thing of evil, you see. You could shove your head in one and break your own neck, if you so wanted to.

The socks came next, made of the same rough cotton as the other clothing articles. You weren't allowed to walk around barefoot, because you might step on a nail that you magically conjured up with the sheer power of your own imagination, and bleed out and die. But you could wear just socks, those would obviously save youfrom the same situation.

He slipped on an extra pair, as he always did. Every time. Every day. He didn't like when his feet were cold, at least that was one aspect he still had control over. A mediocre one, but a comfort none-the-less. And then shuffled his way out of his room.

"Morning Itachi, Deidara, Konan." He said, letting slip the energy to smile warmly that he'd built up during the trek to the cafeteria. God knew these people needed it, even if their reactions were occasionally more hostile than appreciative. He set his tray down and seated himself, sitting so that he was crosslegged in the chair. Itachi glared a reply, Deidara growled, Konan only stared blankley at her food, swirling it around with her plastic spork. Each if them was wearing the same ensamble as he was, not one of them had taken a single bite of the meal in front of them, Itachi's had not even been uncovered.

These were the easiest people to sit with, Zetsu had learned since being here. He was the newbie, thanks to the last person who'd been a ward in this unit's creative imaginion with which they used to kill themselves. Despite being new, however, he couldn't honestly even recall how long it had been. Upon asking any of the staff he'd only received condescending brush-offs; "The process of healing cannot be completed properly is one sets themselves a time-limit, Shiro." Always something akin to that. After awhile he'd finally stopped bothering to care, finally deciding that he was not here to heal. He was here so that society would not have to be so misfortunate as to look upon him in pity, until the day he died.

Gingerly removing the cover of his food, unwrapping his spork from the plastic, and opening his milk carton, he began eating what would be a good breakfast if it didn't lack any sort of favor or taste in the slightest. Itachi was the first to glance up at him, observing him as he performed this, as if it were the strangest thing in the world. A grumbled arguement started over to the table behind them, but it was mostly ignored in the cafeteria, consumed in the heavy silence and general unhappiness of it's inhabitants.

He nearly jumped when a small paper cup was sat beside him on the table with an assorment of colorful pills inside, despite the fact that this happened every morning and he should have expected it. The action was repeated with all the other persons sitting at the table, each of them glaring with respective disgust, disinterest, or not even glancing at all at the medications.

"So how are you feeling today Itachi?" The woman in blue scrubs asked, standing beside the dark-haired teen.

"I can't sleep." He muttered, voice dripping with malice.

"Have you tried?" The woman countered, making the boy twist to glare at her, simultaneously slamming a fist onto the table.

"Yesss." He hissed through clenched teeth, looking very much as if he were using every ounce of energy to restrain himself from attacking her.

She scribbled something onto the clipboard in her arms, not responding in the least to his hostility. "Alright, we'll try a different sleeping pill then."

"Oh yes.." Deidara mumbled. "_T-that's_ what's going to help, give us _more_ drugs. Because the side effects are _so_ worth-th the fucking non-existant remedy."

"You're having a bad morning too then, Deidara?" The woman commented, ignoring his outburst as well.

His face fell blank and he turned ominously slouwly toward her. "I wonder just how much more tolerable you would be with your face burned away hm? I wonder how you would look at us then, when your outside matched that diseased fu-fucking personality of yours."

"Mm. I think we're going to give you a boost on your mood stabilizers. Your stutter seems to be improving though, are you feeling more relaxed?"

The blond teens grip tightened around his spork until the plastic cracked, and the woman glanced down at it without the slightest show of fear. "Alright then." She said, scribbling on her clipboard, and moving to stand beside Konan. Her face shifted to that of someone looking fondly at a hurt puppy, and she leaned in close as she spoke, as if the girl might not hear otherwise. "Konan? How are you feeling today sweetie?"

As with everything else, she didn't even acknowledge anything in the world around her, choosing instead to continue swirling around the watery gravey on her plate with the spork. Her blue hair dangled over her face, tangled and unkempt, and the woman only sighed lightly and straightened herself, scribbling yet again and moving next to Zetsu.

Itachi's piercing gaze had been set on Konan now, but reading into any thoughts he might be having was as successful as trying to run through a brick wall.

"And how are you Shiro?" The nurses tone was far more cheerful now, and it irritated him to where he, too, was gritting his teeth.

"My name is Zetsu. And I'm fine, I'm perfectly sane. I'm not danger to myself or others, and I'd like to leave."

"Well that's so nice to hear, Shiro. I'm glad you're well."

"Yes. And I'd like to leave. I have no reason to be here." It was the same conversation every morning. She treated him with the same false friendliness each day, even when it was a male, even when it was a nurse he'd never seen before. They were always happier to converse with him, granted, it was probably due to the fact that he never theatened or insulted them. It was still infuriating though. Perhaps if they weren't treated like brain-dead toddlers, they wouldn't be so angry.

"We'll see how you do today, Shiro. And maybe we can get something done." She said with a soft smile, before scribbling on her paper and leaving, her shoes clicking against the tile floor.

Every time, every day, always the same.

He blew out a long breath, staring at his plate as he did so, not surprised in the least that his appetite was gone. When he lifted his eyes again, he found all three of his friends stareing at him. For a moment he only stared back in silence, nothing but the increasing volume of the arguement at the other table pervading the air. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by Konan's soft but near haunted voice.

"They're never going to let you out."

He stared at her, then at the other two, who's silent stares somehow surmised their agreement with this statement.

"It doesn't matter that you have no reason to be here. They'll just keep giving you pills and treating you like you're crazy until you give them what they want." She continued, turning back to face her plate, drawing her legs up to hug her knees with her free arm as she did so.

"But what do they want from me?" He asked. They had this conversation every morning too. And though he knew what answer he was going to get, he couldn't ever seem to say anything else. There wasn't anything else to say, really, except to agree and surrender to his fate.

"They w-want you to be fucking c-crazy, dumbass." Deidara growled, just like he always did, as if he'd said the answer a millions times, but couldn't stop himself from saying it once more. "You either c-come in as a psycho, or they turn you int-to one while you're here..."

He knew this to be true. No one ever left this place, this wasn't just some place where over-emotional teens came to recover from trying to kill themselves because their boyfriend broke up with them. This was an asylum. The equivolent of jail to those of unsound mind. No one was here just because they were depressed, or irrationally angry all the time. There was always a reason for someone to end up here.

But that doesn't explain his presence.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

The four of them didn't even flinch at the sudden screaming, nor at the sound of fists slamming onto a table, rattling all the trays, nor the sound of a chair being flung backwards and clattering to the floor as someone stood suddenly and violently from it. Zetsu was the only one who finally glanced over to witness a pale man quite literally launch himself across the table to tackle one of the other wards to the ground, wrapping his hands around his throat.

Another daily occurance, Hidan trying to kill someone. At least this time it was someone who could return the beating.

Kakuzu snarled back at him, and the two wrestled on the floor, knocking over the table they'd been sitting at, sending trays flying over onto another table beside it. The patrons of that table only looked in boredom to the two who now more resembled apes stuck in their grapple at each others throats, completley unaffected by the scene. The other who'd been at the table with Hidan and Kakuzu, a red-head who went by the name Sasori Akasuna, simply rose from his chair and moved a few feet out of the way, turning around to watch the show with the rest of the patients, a twisted sort of grin dominating his features.

Three of the staff, all in pale green scrubs, raced over to them, one of them loading a syringe likley loaded with sedative. As soon as two of the men were able to pull Hidan off, his anger directed itself at them, and suddenly they were both on the floor, shouting and screaming in agony as he beat and tore into them with nothing but fists, nails, and teeth.

Kakuzu was given the sedative first, being the bigger of the two, having an even shorter fuse and even more explosive anger. The puce-haired man didn't even see how they'd managed to pin the man long enough to get that needle in his neck, as distracted as he was watching Hidan single-handedly attempt to murder two men at once.

Another man in the green scrubs dashed out, holding what looked like a pistole with a capsule sticking out the top, and a needle sticking out from the barrel. He had to forcibley throw himself onto Hidan's back before he was able to have a chance at shoving the needle of the gun into him and pull the trigger.

As he was slowly forced into unconciousness, the same nurse from before came sauntering back out, smiling as if nothing of interest had just happened, and picked up the empty pill cups. Zetsu blinked as she did so, unable to recall having actually took them, but noting that they were gone all the same.

"Everyone please calmly return to your rooms. Group is in an hour." She announced after finishing the task. And with unaminous grumbling and muttered comments, the patients all did as instructed.

.

Endless monotony, constant boredom, infinite confusion. If he could have just one clue, just one idea of why the hell he was here. How he had gotten here. What had brought him here...

Amnesia was the best he could come up with. But _specific_ amnesia, there were only certian parts of himself he couldn't remember. He knew who he was, he knew where he came from, he remembered his childhood. But nothing at all that related to this predicament he was in. It was enough to make a person think they really _were_ crazy...

_"Why do _you_ think you're here, Shiro?"_

Never answering, never giving him even the remote feeling that they intended to be of any assistance at all. They didn't want him to know, he'd gathered that long ago. But why? Why would they not want him to remember why he was here? Unless there really was no reason...

He sighed, laying now on his bed, staring up at the corner of the white ceiling where it met the white walls, which in turn stretched down the box of a room to meet the white- tiled floor. The mattress crumpled beneath him as he lifted an arm, extending it for a second to study his hand, as if the answers were hidden there in his palm. The bed creaked again when he let it fall limply to drape across his face, covering his eyes. The staff had removed all his bedding as soon as he left the room. Leaving sheets and blankets around unsupervised inmates was a very strict taboo, seeing as you could easily tie them around your throat and choke yourself to death. But for some unknown reason one was still allowed to use them at night, as long as they absoloutly promised they would sleep and not commit suicide.

Because insane people breaking their word is absoloutly unheard of, don't you know?

He jumped again for the second time that day when a sudden presence invaded the room and his thoughts with it's overly happy voice.

"Good morning Senpai!"

He smiled to himself under the arm still hiding his eyes, trying to let his heart return to a normal rhythem before he responded. "Tobi, I've told you before, calling me that makes no sense what-so-ever. I'm not your mentor, nor your superior. I'm just your friend."

A sudden pressure on the mattress beside him implied that the visitor had seated himself. The sinking of the mattress made his body shift slightly, his side coming to rest against the warmth of the other. "Ooh, Zetsu had a bad morning again..." The child-like voice said somberly.

With a chuckle he finally let his arm flop down, extended out to his side to the point where his hand was dangling off his bed. "Are you supposed to be in here Tobi?"

"Of course. Would I ever endanger my dear friend?"

A warm smile. "Well good. Does that mean we're not confined any longer? I thought a nurse would have come told me."

Tobi stood up, adopting a peter-pan pose with legs spread and hands on his hips. "She said I could come in here and inform you in her place, Senpai."

He gave him an equally teasing and accusing stare. Tobi had not been at breakfast, though he rarely ever was. He preferred to eat in his room, due to how incredibly grumpy and downright mean all the other wards were in the morning. It was doubtful what he was saying was true. He likley wandered out after he'd been done eating and was told to return to his room, only to slip into Zetsu's to greet him a good morning as he always did. Every time, every day.

"You're sure you're not just being sneaky because you're lonley and bored again?"

Tobi fidgeted. "...No..."

"Well. I suppose I have no choice but to believe you, seeing as dear friends never lie to each other..." Zetsu sighed, pushing himself up to a sitting position as the mattress groaned under him. From there he stood and stretched, growling in satisfaction when his back popped. "Let's go to the common room then, maybe they'll let us watch the television."

Tobi fidgeted nervously again as Zetsu started with purposely slow-motion steps toward the door. In a flash he was in front of the slightly taller man, arms outstretched and hands against his chest as if it might take all his power to stop the fellow ward from leaving the room. "Okay I lied!" He admitted weakly, as if about to cry. "But I did have a good reason, Zetsu! Promise!"

He only laughed lightly and patted his friend on the shoulder, turning to sit back on his bed. "Alright Tobi, what reason is that?"

"Zetsu has an e-mail."

He quirked a brow. Each patient was only allowed one hour of computer time, Zetsu knew for a fact that Tobi had used his yesterday to watch funny videos of cats. Which meant the sneaky guy had hacked his way not only into the system, but into Zetsu's rarely ever used email account.

He'd learned long ago that the mental patient had faaar more intellect than he let show, and had just assumed that that was one of the reasons he was in here. Some mental condition that led him to beleive he was still a child despite the fact that he was actually older than Zetsu himself and was far more intelligent, as if he were the offspring of Einstein and a muffin. It wasn't as if it were a bad thing, the puce-haired man enjoyed Tobi's company far more than any of the other miserly, brooding members of the asylum. So damn depressing, they were. Always honest, never outright hostile against him, but depressing none-the-less.

"How do you know if I have an email?" He finally questioned, and Tobi stiffened, reaching up to adjust the mask he rarely ever removed due to the terrible condition of his face. After a long amount of silence had passed between them while the man silently clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, Zetsu sighed.

"You know I really don't care when you break the rules right? Just don't invade my privacy."

"Yes. Okay. But it was important this time."

Another sigh as he patted the spot beside him on the bed, as it was the only place to sit in the room instead of the cold floor. Tobi moved over to sit in the designated spot, not waiting for instruction to continue before he did. "It was an angry e-mail Senpai! There's another Zetsu who thinks you've stolen his identity! I wanted to tell him that he was obviously the copy cat, as no one would _pretend_ to be locked in a mental institution. But I thought I better just tell you right away. You always know what to do."

He stared at his friend beside him on the bed for a moment, nulling this all over before immediatly dismissing what was clearly an exponential crisis is the poor man's mind. The folk in this place had a tendancy to snap at the slightest encouragement, or sometimes no encouragement at all. Despite the fact that each patient unanimously hated the staff with every fiber of their being, this was a place for mentally unstable individuals, and they all held true to the label. Except Zetsu himself, but that was only his own perception. For all he knew that's what everyone in this place might think.

"You're sure someone else named Zetsu actually sent me an angry email, claiming that I stole his identity?" He repeated slowly, trying to make his friend realize just how ludacris that sounded.

Tobi nodded without needing even a moment to reconsider. "He calls himself Zetsu Kuru though. He thinks it's not very nice for you to make fun of the situation he was in and that you need to delete your account before he takes matters into his own hands."

_Kuru?_ That's strange... Why did that sound so familiar? It was enough to peak his curiosity, at the least. "Really? Huh... I guess I better check it out later then huh?"

At that exact moment There was a knock at the door, and the two men glanced at each other, Tobi launched himself from the bed and leaped behind the door just before it was opened up and the nurse in the blue came in again. "Shiro, it's time for group." She said, features taking in his deer-in-headlights expression. she stepped into the room further, not noticing when zetsu's eyes watched Tobi slip out from behind the door and make a run for it.

"Shiro? Are you alright?"

He blinked, and then shook his head, forcing a smile. "Yeah, sorry, You just scared me. I was... daydreaming."

She returned the smile and nodded, motioning for him to follow. "I hope you're not too rattled from that bit of trouble we had at breakfast."

Following after her, his face twisted in confusion. "Hidan attacks someone almost every day... If it were anything but normal I'd stay in my room like Tobi."

He turned to eye him sideways as she led the way down the hall, giving him a questioning look, but saying nothing more.

.

"Itachi, you mentioned that you were having trouble sleeping. Would you like to elaborate on that?" The woman said now, seated on one of the many metal folding chairs arranged in a circle. Zetsu sat two chairs to her right, slouched with his arms crossed, staring at the floor as he always did. If this particular wing of the institution wasn't hostile enough already, group therapy always drove everyone's emotions to a fever pitch.

Honestly the man still couldn't fathom what made the staff continue to think that sticking a bunch of crazies in a room together and forcing them to expose their own vulnerability to a group of already pissed off individuals seeking some sort of release for their frustration was a good idea. He'd even worked up the courage to ask this aloud on a few occasions, but of course had never received even a remotely satisfying answer.

"No." The Uchiha said, also glaring down steadily at the floor, wringing his hands tightly.

"No one wants to talk about anything." Spat a voice that would me smooth as silk if not for the vemon crackling within. The speaker also sat slightly reclined in his chair, arms crossed, and one ankle perched on his knee, glaring pure hellfire at the woman in blue scrubs. She only looked back as if interested, not a single trace of the fear she should very well be feeling considering every single person in this room wanted to do terrible inhumane things to her and bring about her eventual death.

"Do you think so Sasori? I don't agree with you, but you've got every right to your opinion."

"Shut up. No one believes your stupid act. We're not a bunch of children, speaking to me like that will accomplish nothing but a blade protruding from your chest cavity." He said the last with a malicious sneer, and Zetsu felt himself shudder at the sight.

"Sasori I would hate to have to restrict you to your room again all day. Seclusion inhibits the healing process terribley. But if you're going to be so vulgar-"

"Tch. That's not fucking vulgar." The pale man from breakfast piped, leaning forward on his seat with a grin that implied he knew some secret that no one else did. "Vulgar would be telling you how I stay up all night planning in meticulous fucking detail what I'm going to do if I ever get the chance to lay my hands around that fat fucking neck of yours without interruption."

Finally the woman seemed to blanch a little bit. "Hidan, the same threat goes to you. I don't think you enjoy being sedated, but that is the path you are voluntarily heading down."

"You're an imebcile if you think any one of us is here voluntarily." The other participant in this mornings brawl stated calmly. "Half of these idiots would have killed themselves long ago, the other half would have gotten themselves killed by other means of stupidity."

"And what about you, Kakuzu? What would you have done?" The nurse asked, leaning over to place a hand on the man's shoulder, as he was seated directly next to her. Zetsu's stomache rolled for a second as Kakuzu's icy gaze jerked to glance between the woman's face and her hand. The skin between his brows creased together in calm fury before he finally replied.

"I would have come to your house in the middle of the night to kidnap you. Had you strapped down naked in the middle of the colluseum and sold tickets to watch a show that starred you being cluster fucked by rabid dogs."

A sound much like a kicked puppy pierced the air from the ward beside Zetsu. He looked over to the poor girl, curled up once again in fetal position with her face buried in her knees, sobbing violently, and very nearly burst into tears himself. Konan, as he understood it, had been a rape victim. The extent of that situation and the details he did not know, and did not want to find out. After all, it had to be particularly gruesome to drive someone to kill her own father, cut off his genetalia and shove it down the family garbage disposal.

At the same time as that, Two other members, both only slightly younger than Zetsu burst into obnoxious laughter. Suigetsu Hoozuki and Karin Kusa, the only other female in this wing aside from Konan, were part of a little three-man clique at the asylum, something that Zetsu himself though absoloutly pitiful. All three had come in at nearly the exact time, each of them horribley and freshly disturbed in apparently the same sick way, (He actually made a large effort _not_ to find out what had brought them here) they'd made some sort of alliance with each other. The third man, Juugo Tenbin, chose not to laugh along with his 'friends' at Konan's reaction to Kakuzu's terrible description. Instead he only glared at the dark-skinned man, sparks nearly shooting out from his head and promising some sort of fight between the two later in the day.

The nurse pulled a walkie-talkie from her pocket and requested a few extra hands in the room, clearly trying to make it appear as if Kakuzu's comment hadn't bothered her in the slightest. In no more than a few seconds three men in the pale green scrubs came in, these one much larger built than the breakfast bunch, and placed themselves against the wall directly behind all the known troublemakers of the group. This of course silenced everyone, as it was common knowledge that the 'greenies', as they were called, regularly carried loaded tranquilizers and were authorized to use them at any moment in time they deemed it appropriate.

That's all they were here in this place, a bunch of sick cattle waiting to die by whatever hand grants them the oppurtunity.

Again the urge to scream nearly took him. To just scream and scream until his throat bled and his eyes popped from his skull from the pressure. He only swallowed heavily though, feeling as if he had a tennis ball stuck in his throat. He glanced again to Itachi, who was stareing at Konan yet again, with only the slightest crease in the pale skin of his forehead to show any sort of emotion at all.

"I keep hearing them..." He finally said into the room that had reduced itself to glares of mutual hatred and disgust between all the inhabitants.

The nurse turned to face him fully in an almost excited manner, eagerly scribbling down a quick note on her clipboard. "Yes Itachi. Who do you keep hearing?"

"My... family..."

Zetsu winced again. Itachi too was a victim to abuse, though it was more along the lines of physical and emotional torture than anything of a sexual nature. The teen didn't speak much, so the details weren't made all that clear, however his crime had been the center of the media's attention for nearly six months after it had occurred. Only the charred remains of his parents bodies had been found, though the multiple incisions and stab wounds had been unmistakeable. The lead witness had been simply strolling by the estate when itachi emerged, covered head to toe in blood, carrying his brother's lifeless body, whispering the phrase "I only meant to save him." over and over again until the building behind him exploded and he was knocked unconcious.

The nurse remained silent, by some miracle, only staring expectantly at the Uchiha as she awaited further information.

"Like rabbits surrounded by a cage of fire... Screaming..." He continued, voice wavering dangerously. Slowly he moved his hands up to cover his ears. "I close my eyes and I see... Sas... Sasuke... and I can't... how can I just sleep? Knowing that he's... that I..." He was unable to finished as tears rolled down his face and his body heaved in a sob.

Every eye in the group was focused on him until that moment. Then half of them looked away, rolling their eyes. A few looked away because they couldn't stomache that kind of reaction without breaking down themselves. Only Konan stared blankley at the man, as if trying to see if some sort of emotion would present itself to her.

"I don't see how he c-could be ashamed of something like that." Deidara finally spoke up, shrugging. The woman in blue jerked her attention to him, a false smile plastering itself once again across her features. "And why is that, Deidara?"

Again he shrugged, letting his head fall back over the back of the chair as if they were in school and he were simply bored of listening to the lesson. "I think it sounds l-like something beautiful. Can you imagine how gorgeous that scenario would be, seeing _him_ (He gestured with a wave to Itachi, also curled into a fetal position now) walking in slow motion, down a long p-pathway out these elaborate gates, maginifcent f-fire erupting behind him, c-consuming everything in sight except for the lone hero, weep-ping over the loss of the only thing he ever held dear."

He paused for a moment, bringing his head back up, eyes closed as if re-living some beautiful memory. "That's f-fucking art, hm."

"It's not about the fucking explosion, Terrorist Barbie!" Hidan spat. "He vanquished the fucking evil he was pitted against in a manner that reflected and punished them for all their mis-deeds. He destroyed the corrupt and fucking set free the innocent from having to live in this fucked up fucking world and witnessing that goddamn travesty. It's not art, it's fucking _devine justice_."

"Just because you're the only insane person in here insane enough to claim you were possessed by a fake person in the sky to do his bidding and smite the evil from the world doesn't suddenly make you a priest worthy of spitting out claims like that." Growled the man beside Kakuzu, a hulking giant of a man known as Kisame Hoshigaki. Shiro honestly had yet to discern exactly what it was that was up with this man. He seemed to switch back and forth between thoughtful and intelligent to a drooling blood-thirsty beast at the drop of a hat. Today was one of the rare days he was actually allowed to be around the other patients, as he was usually secluded in his own cell down on the solitary confinement wing.

"He's just a damned idiot is all he is." Kakuzu said, speaking to Kisame obviously but glaring daggers at Hidan.

"You bunch of fucking heathens will all receive your recompense come the fucking judgement day. Just you fucking wait, all you dumb fuckers that mocked me will be begging for mercy as you try in futility to shove your own organs back into your body."

"Oh g-great, here he fucking goes!" Deidara said loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Maybe if you repent now you can save yourselves from eternal damnation you bunch of blashpheming shit-eaters. As soon as I get out of this place the first fucking thing I'm doing is sneaking back in to cut off your fucking eyelids and force you to watch yourself bleed out after I slit your goddamned throats!"

One of the green scrubs came to stand behind Hidan, putting a hand threateningly over his pocket.

"You're never going to get out of here if you keep wearing your inner psycho out on your sleeve like that, you twit..." Sasori mumbled, that insidious smirk still present.

"Oh but D-don't you know Danna? That im-maginary person in the sky is going to come rescue him!"

"Don't you fucking call me that you brat. You don't even know what it means." He snarled, sitting up suddenly as if he were about to lunge at the blonde, but stopping himself at the last moment with a quick glance at one of the Greenies.

"He knows exactly what it means." Kakuzu ground out. "It's equivolent to Sugar-daddy in his mind, isn't it?"

"His brain is likley more similar to a hard-boiled egg now anyway with that rediculous obsession of his." Kisame added, which promted Deidara's face to burn crimson in his rage and Hidan and The Clique to burst into laughter.

Zetsu clenched his eyes shut, as if that would somehow stop him from hearing this conversation. A hand suddenly covered his, and he re-opened them to find Tobi, sitting to his left looking at him, face still hidden behind the mask.

"It's okay Senpai..." His one and only friend said softly.

He only nodded, afraid to say anything to attract attention to himself. Every day it was the same. Each of them speculating on the other person's reason for being here, condemning them with their opinions, or defending them with words that only made the situation worse. Every day he had to sit by and listen to the tragic, demented realities these people lived in, wondering why he was here, why he was being put through this, how they could so casually speak of such terrible things as if it were the most normal thing in the world. How those nurses could sit there and look at them with that stupid smile, knowing that each and every one of them could see the disgust they were hiding.

It wasn't fair. No one deserved this. No one should be forced to live like this.

"I need to get out of here..." He whispered to his friend, who only squeezed his hand in response. It was the same thing he told the masked man each group session he was forced to sit through. Every time, every day...

.

The rest of the day followed the same pattern as that. This group of people who were pronounced legally insane and pretty well hated each other were forced constantly to interact, punished when they responded to their natural personalities and mindsets and exhibited anything similar to intentional violence.

The orderlies continouslly came at them with their overly-friendly, fake parent act, doing nothing at all to help the tension that never failed to make itself present at each and every one of their 'activities'.

Life went on in this little prison of theirs, each of them barely making it to the end of the day with what little sanity they had left remaining intact. Zetsu himself feeling as if every day were an impossibley difficult fight for his life that was inevitabley doomed anyway. He couldn't imagine what the other's felt like after getting into their scuffles and shouting matches, being restrained and sedated and thrown back into their kennels when the rough-housing got to bee too much, as if they were merely animals instead of people.

But finally, they'd reached the end of the day, there was only one more hour left until each of them would be guided back into their room and left alone in the darkness with their demon until the sun rose the next day. Finally, Zetsu was allowed his one hour of free time, which he always used for one thing. This time it was slightly more purposeful, given the information Tobi had relayed to him earlier this morning.

And now, he stared at the screen wearily, reading over the words before him.

_First off, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Zetsu Kuru. _

_I'm only actually doing this because my friend seems to think that what you're doing is fucked up. And I'm not all that inclined to disagree with him. I find it repulsive that anyone would make fun of the situation I have recently been through by pretending to be me, or even some doppleganger. Whatever angle you're going for, this situation is deplorable. It's not funny, and I don't find it admirable, or whatever term all those idiots have been using to describe you._

_Zetsu Shiro, or whatever the fuck your name is, I expect you to remove this twisted scandal from this and any other social networking sight you may have upon receiving this e-mail, before I take matters into my own hands. You're sick and demented, And neither patience, nor empathy, has ever been my strong suit. Take it down, or I will take you down._

_Sincerely, Kuru._

Zetsu's first reaction had been to re-read the message three more times. Confusion was the first emotion to race through him, followed secondly by fear. After that came anger at the insult he felt of being accused of such a thing.

Tobi had a tendancy to exagerate any situation that he thought might emotionally harm his friend, and honestly the man had thought this to simply be one of the cases.

He spared a glance to the seat beside him, where Tobi was ferverantly looking up pictures of ferrets in funny clothes or poses with captions, a hand slid up under his mask and assumingly over his mouth to keep the giggles that wracked his body from disrupting the silence of the 'library'.

He turned back to his own computer, staring distantly at the blinking cursor. Yes, Tobi had the tendancy to treat certians situations with more distress than neccessary with his strange, child-like thought-processes. But now that he was sitting down on the computer with half his time already taken up just from his inability to provoke any kind of rational thought at the maelstrom of emotions he was feeling, he thought the masked man might have hit the nail right on the head.

Obviously the first thing that came to mind was to unleash all his pent up frustration on this faceless person who had the audacity to say such things to him. But, Zetsu was never one for unneccesary conflict, and so took the time to count to ten and take a few cleasing breaths before he put his hands to the keyboard.

Just as he typed the first word, he was, for the third time today, nearly scared out of his skin by a hand latching onto his shoulder and gripping firmly for a moment.

"Shiro, You have twenty minutes left." The masculine voice said behind him without even a hint of an attempt to sound friendly. Zetsu appreciated this and loathed it at the same time.

"My name is Zetsu." He said low, just above a growl.

The orderly only walked off as if not even having heard him. Tobi turned to give him what he was going to guess was a sympathetic stare before shaking his head and returning to his own business.

He supposed he should be grateful that they gave him any computer time at all. Only the more put-together of the patients were granted this small freedom. Those people being Tobi, Konan, himself, the Clique, and on very rare occasions when the teen wasn't having a bad day, Itachi was allowed on too.

But it didn't change his irritation at constnatly being called by his last name despite that fact that none of the others were subjected to such treatment. He didn't know what it meant, he didn't know why they did it, and it didn't matter how many times he corrected them or asked them politley to call him Zetsu. It was always the same. Everthing was always the same. Every time, every day.

Except this e-mail. This was not the same.

He took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as he contemplated the significance of this, knowing well that he might be overthinking it, and should probably just stick with his initial feelings.

This person seemed to be just as affected by him as he was by them. Unless they were an extremley fucked up individual that enjoyed toying with patients locked in an asylum, it seemed they were only reacting honestly. If this person really did share a first name with him, and that annoying familiar last name that he couldn't seem to link any sort of memory to, then coming at this from an aggressive approach would do nothing but cause him a headache, and make him lose this one tiny thread he still had left that connected him to the outside world.

And what's more than that, the implication they had made that they had recently escaped such a place intruigued him to no end. So, not only did they share a name, they shared a common understanding of what it was like to be in this hell hole. It was this notion that immediatly washed away any lingering resentment and had him decide that he needed to continue conversing with this individual, if not for some means of finding a way out, then at least for friendship. Not that Tobi's presence wasn't heavily appreciated... But being able to talk to someone on the outside would be like obtaining just a bit more freedom, and in a place like this, even the smallest bit of relief was worth fighting for.

Just ask the other wards that constantly attacked one another.

Again he put his hands to the keyboard, smiling to himself as he typed out the first line.

_Hello Kuru. I am Zetsu Shiro._

That was as far as he got before the hand reappeared on his shoulder.

"Five minutes Shiro."

Fuck, he had to do this quickly or he'd have to wait and suffer through a whole other day just to reply when he would have another email from this person in the same amount of time.

_Hello Kuru. I'm Zetsu Shiro._

_I'm terribly sorry for causing you the emotional trouble I did, But I'm a little taken back by your contact as well. I have no intentions of mocking you at all, I can promise you without a doubt that I'm not the kind of person to do something so blatantly disrespectful. _

_The only way I can prove to you that my actual name is Zetsu Shiro and that I am a real being trapped here in a real place on real pretenses would be to converse with you further. However I'm out of alloted computer time for today. If you wish to know more then by all means send me another email, I'll do my best to reply tomorrow at this same time_

_Unfortunatly I must go before they refuse to let me so much as click send. I look forward to hearing more from you._

_Sincerely,_

He paused at this point, fingers splayed and ready to type in his first name. However, they both shared a name, and this other man (he was just going to go ahead and assume it was a male like himself) had signed off with his last name. Perhaps he should do the same?

"Alright Shiro, Time's up." Came the same voice that had been harrassing him for the last hour, making him jump yet again in his seat.

Nearly in a panic, he typed in his last name and clicked 'send' just before the staff member reached out to the tower of the computer and clicked the power button.

The screen went blank, and he stared at it in anxious silence before the man forced him out of the seat and proceeded to guide him back to his room, where he would be locked in until morning.

Zetsu was not a religious man, but he was not completly agnostic either, as he had the tendancy to attempt a prayer session on the days when he was feeling especially helpless at the state his life had been reduced to. This was one of those times, and as he climbed onto the bare mattress and let his head flop onto the barely insulated pillow, as he pulled the thin, scratchey blanket up over his head, he said a silent prayer that this one thing, this one difference that reminded him that he wasn't stuck in some sort of infinite time loop, would not let him down, and that he would hear from this other Zetsu again.

-o-

A/N-

Thanks for reading, reviews are loved. See you next chapter.


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